


Before the Dawn pt. 2

by BloodMagic



Series: Dragon Age: Fluff [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff without Plot, Post-Canon, Smut, smut without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodMagic/pseuds/BloodMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Please for the love of Andraste, observe the rating. Yes, part 1 was for general audiences. Part 2 is not. Part 2 is the direct aftermath of and sequel to part 1, but uploaded as a completely separate story because it's smutty and has a rating on the exact opposite end of the spectrum. <br/>So, if this is your first encounter with Before the Dawn, and you didn't read part 1, here's a quick sum-up: About one year after the game events, a Solasmancing Inquisitor named Narvi Lavellan has moved on with her life. She develops a close friendship with Cullen, and they confess their mutual love for one another. <br/>Literally, you guys, gals, and others: part 2 is just them having sex for the first time after that confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Dawn pt. 2

The back of her knees bumped into the mattress. She had enough presence of mind yet to know what it was, so she didn't exactly protest when the action left her unbalanced and sitting on the edge of his bed.

His bed. The right side of Cullen's mouth quirked up in a smirk. He liked the sight of her there. His knee pressed into the mattress at her side and his broad frame dwarfed her slender elven one as he leaned into her and pressed his lips to hers. Narvi melted instantly; her fingers burrowed their way into the hair at the base of his skull and guided him down with her as she lay back. Her soft lips parted. Her tongue flicked into his mouth and back again.

Taken aback, Cullen broke the kiss and retreated a few inches.

“Something wrong?” Narvi murmured while her fingertips brushed against his stubbly jaw. She knew that Cullen tended to be a physically reserved person, and whether by choice or necessity he had spent much of his life celibate. If she was reading his expression correctly, he was equally torn between wanting to make love to her and being unsure of how to proceed, or how far to go at once. Narvi suspected that, at least this time, she would have to take charge of the situation. “If you're not comfortable with this...” she began then.

His eyes widened and his arms stiffened. What was wrong with him? He finally had his chance; the woman of his dreams was here with him, _inviting_ him to explore and enjoy her. The candlelight flickered on her warm skin, made her glow like burnished bronze. It sparkled on her eyes. How he wanted to lose himself in her eyes, in her soft lips. And yet he was freezing up. He wanted to punch himself.

“I'm sorry, it's just—” he found himself saying, “I've never—that is, it's been a long time—Maker's breath I'm really mucking this up, aren't I?” Narvi's hand cupped the part of his jaw she had been stroking before. He sighed heavily as he leaned into her hand.

“You're not mucking it up,” she assured him quietly. With her other hand to aid her balance, she pushed herself out from under him and sat up. Cullen gaped at her. For a moment he was terrified that she would call the whole thing off.

“Get up here and lay back,” she ordered, her voice a gentle tease. He seemed confused but obeyed. When he was comfortable, Narvi got to work.

One leg swung over him so she was straddling his waist. Then she leaned down, flattened her torso against his, and with one hand on either side of his face she effectively pinned him in place and kissed him, hard. This time, when her lips opened, he took the hint and tentatively sent his own tongue forth to explore. There were no words in his head for how to describe the taste of her, but he knew he liked it. He knew he would never pass on the chance to taste her again in the future. He knew he would go mad if that taste were ever removed out of his reach.

Cullen's hands settled on each of her thighs, held onto them like lifelines. At the sensation, a tremble moved up Narvi's spine and she pulled her head away from the kiss. It was just as well; they could both use the chance to catch a proper breath. Her hands stroked down his jaw again. Cullen vocally made note of how fascinated she seemed to be with touching his face.

Her hands pulled away. “If it bothers you I'll stop,” she offered. Embarrassed pink flushed through her cheeks.

“No, that's not what I meant,” Cullen was quick to backtrack. “I like it. I do. I just—I don't know why. Is there some special significance to it for you?” Narvi's answering smile practically oozed mischief; Cullen felt butterflies in his stomach just looking at her when she smiled like that.

Narvi began stroking his jaw again, so gently it was more like a tickle. “You could say that. This is a big deal. It's the first time I've ever been with a man with a beard. We elves don't grow them at all, you know.”

A low, husky chuckle escaped Cullen then. Narvi felt the rumble of it in her belly where she lay against him. The sensation pleased her.

“You are far from a simple woman, Narvi, but you can always find pleasure in small, simple things. I've always loved that about you.” One of his hands left her thigh and moved upward to trace little circles along her shoulder and upper back. Her eyebrows knitted together and her lips pursed slightly.

“What's 'always?'” she asked.

“What?”

“When did you decide 'I love that about her?'” Narvi prompted.

Cullen had to think back. When  _was_ the first time his thoughts toward her turned more tender than was perhaps appropriate?

“I think it was when I thought I'd lost you in that avalanche at Haven. When we found you again and I carried you back to our camp. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment. Just you.”

Narvi's eyes had grown huge in their sockets, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “That long ago? But, you've never said  _anything_ .”

“I never could bring myself to tell you,” Cullen admitted. His shoulders made an unsuccessful attempt at a shrug. His eyes closed as though the memory pained him. “You were happy with someone else. You were saving the world. And then you were grieving. Every time one of our friends left, it was like your heart broke all over again. Even if I had the courage to say it before, there was never a time when it didn't feel wrong. Like I would be taking advantage of your sorrow.”

“And what about your sorrow? Did _anyone_ know you felt this way?”

He opened his eyes. “I think Varric knew, or at least suspected. I heard him call me 'puppy-eyes' a few times. Leliana probably knew. She knows just about everything that happens around here.”

“But you've never gone out of your way to tell anyone,” Narvi said as much asked. Cullen shook his head. “Maker's breath,” she swore. He couldn't help smiling. She had spent so much time with him lately that she had adopted his favorite oath.

Narvi sat up and scooted herself back so she was sitting less on his waist and more on his legs. Her hand beckoned him to sit up. He did, and watched transfixed as her hands quickly and expertly undid every clasp and button on her top.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I thought _I_ needed this but _you_ are on a whole different level,” she said by way of reply as she shrugged her arms out of her tunic and tossed it on the ground. Cullen's face flushed red and he was too embarrassed to meet her eyes, but looking down only brought him face to face with her round naked breasts. If possible, he blushed even deeper. 

Narvi wrapped one arm around his shoulders and kissed him again. Her free hand took up one of his and held it against those breasts. They were even softer than Cullen had imagined, the skin cooler and smoother. He gave one an experimental squeeze and was rewarded with a breathy gasp against his lips. He started an experimental pattern of rubbing broad circles over her nipple with his palm, and was rewarded with a moan from her that sent a hot shiver down his spine, through his belly and directly into a cock that was now protesting against the tightness of his trousers. Narvi's hands were down by his waist all of a sudden, were tugging up at the hem of his own tunic, working it upward until he had to lift his arms so she could pull it right over his head.

When his shirt was removed and laying in a pile atop her own, Narvi stopped for a moment and just stared at his upper torso, took in the freckled skin and toned musculature. Then a smile spread over her features. Before Cullen could say anything, she had all ten of her fingers buried in his chest hair and had sighed her longing into one of his pectorals. Another hot shiver moved through him and by now his trousers were almost painfully tight.

“Elves don't grow chest hair either, do they?” he asked in a strained voice. Narvi shook her head. Her hair tickled his skin.

“Not like this. This is magnificent,” she praised. Her fingers raked down through the hair and over his skin.

His moan was deep and low like a purr as he curled his fingers around a fistful of Narvi's hair, gently but firmly pulled her head back and lowered his mouth to her slender neck. Soft, wet lips contrasted with the coarse grain of his stubble. Warmth and wetness began pooling between Narvi's legs, and she whimpered.

Cullen's free hand tugged feverishly at the laces of her trousers. The moment they were loose enough around the waistband, Narvi pulled herself off of him and stood beside the bed. His quizzical gaze followed her, but turned to relief when she smiled and pushed her trousers down her legs and stepped out of them.

Her standing completely naked in front of him, gently glowing in the ruddy candlelight with that smile still on her bruised lips, was almost more than he could take. The sensation in his penis had definitely progressed from 'uncomfortable' to 'pained'. His hands went to work on his belt buckle. From her superior angle, Narvi was more than able and happy to help pull his clothes off once he had the buckle undone and the laces loosened. Her fingers trailed along the bare skin of his thighs as she worked the fabric down; her palms kneaded down his calves; every touch seemed to set him on fire all over again.

Narvi banished his trousers to a dark corner of the room and climbed back on top of him, made her way back up his gloriously defined, muscular body. She paused over his crotch and looked like she was considering the situation. One of her hands began combing through his pubic hair – darker but much the same texture as his chest hair, she was pleased to discover. With her other hand, she ran one tantalizing finger up the underside of his erect shaft in a single, long stroke. His entire body trembled.

“Narvi...” he complained, his voice a breathless gasp. She had never heard him say her name quite like that, but it made her insides feel like an entire field of butterflies.

“Oh alright,” she teased as she inched her way forward enough to plant another kiss on him, which he was more than willing to receive. He seemed to be getting better and more comfortable with those with every passing moment. When they broke apart she asked “so do you think you'd rather be laying down for this, or sitting up?”

Cullen's fingers ran along the line of her ribs as he thought. “I want to see your face,” he answered after a moment. He brushed her hair out of her face as he spoke, as if to emphasize his point.

“Sitting up, then,” Narvi said brightly, and she guided him backward until there was nothing but a pillow in between his spine and the headboard. “Comfy?”

His hands tightened on her hips and butt. His cock, though less pained now that it was out of his trousers, was still aching for release. He didn't trust himself to say anything about it though, so he just nodded and pecked a small kiss on the end of her nose. Narvi was willing to take that as a yes.

She was a little bit nervous at this point; she'd never been penetrated by a human before, and Cullen was a big human at that.

Still, she loved him, and she knew that he loved her. At the very least that was enough to keep her muscles from tightening unnecessarily, which she knew from previous exploits was a surefire way to guarantee pain. She took a deep breath, reached one hand down to hold his erection still in place, and gently lowered her hips into his.

She could feel everything trying to stretch to accommodate him. It pinched at first, but that feeling dissipated quickly enough that it wasn't outright painful. Every inch brought that pinching sensation back, but it seemed to disappear in successively shorter intervals. When she had taken all of him into her, she paused and sighed into his chest. His hips bucked involuntarily into hers when he felt that sigh against his skin.

The scariest moment was over with; now that they had proved that he _could_ fit inside her, Narvi was at liberty to actually enjoy it. Her hips began to rock back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm. Her hands had a firm grip on the top of his shoulders to help her keep balance as she moved.

Cullen was having a hard time keeping himself under control. Most of the sexual release he'd had in his life up to this point had been achieved by masturbation, but that didn't compare at all to this. The universal feeling of warmth and wetness within her, and the tightness of her around him, it was all about to overload him. But bless him, he tried to hold out. He tried to delay his own release as long as possible for her sake, but the entire deck was stacked against him. Every sound she made had his hair standing on end, every hot breath against his skin left him shivering. Everywhere her skin made contact with his at once tickled and ached and burned until his brain was so busy sorting out his senses that he had no room left for thought.

His hands on her hips pulled her in, hard, and his hips thrust upward into hers, harder. Caught between pain and pleasure, she winced. He had tried to hold out, but he came anyway, cried out her name in between ragged gasps. Drained, he sank away, down into his pillow against the headboard. Narvi gently lifted herself off of his satisfied penis but her legs remained where they were astride his pelvis. Her hand started playing idly with his chest hair while she watched his face relax into a languid smile.

“Feel better?” she asked. That smile was answer enough for her, but it disappeared a moment later when his eyes refocused on her and his brow knitted.

“But you don't,” he observed. Quieter, he added, “I'm sorry.”

Narvi shook her head. “No, don't be sorry. That one was for you.” A thank you for holding out so long and never giving up on me, she thought but didn't say. She wasn't prepared for his response.

“I don't want this to be 'for me'; I want it to be for _us_ , always,” he was saying. His hands stroked her back. His body wasn't ready yet to reload for round two, but if he let her go unsatisfied he would never forgive himself. Then an idea occurred to him. “Come on, it's your turn,” he told her, even as he started rolling her over so she was under him. Narvi complied; she was unsure of what he had planned, but she liked the fact that he was confident enough now to act on what he wanted.

Before Cullen got started, he stroked her face and kissed her again. “When was the last time someone told you how beautiful you are?” he asked huskily. “I love you, Narvi Lavellan.”

She nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “I love you, Cullen Rutherford.” She was too close to see it, but she felt him smile.

“I hope you love this just as much,” he said in a teasing voice. Then he moved backward, dragging his fingers down over her breasts, her belly, finally settling on her legs. His lips pressed into her navel and he moved down from there. The kisses he left in his wake burned on her skin.

His hands spread her legs apart and his head bowed down into her vulva. His nose nuzzled into her fine, short pubic hair and his tongue flicked against her clitoris.

Narvi's legs stiffened and her feet felt unusually warm. She moaned her approval and rotated her hips to give him better access. He moved a little further down and let his tongue explore the folds of her vagina. The taste of her down here was distinct from, but essentially similar to, the way she tasted when he kissed her. She was like a heady wine that numbed him to everything in the world but her. He could stay there and drink her in for hours.

At first there was no rhythm nor method, just Cullen taking his time getting to know every fold and crevice of her with his lips and tongue. He let his beard scratch against her inner thigh, and she rewarded him with a full-body tremble and a gasping demand for more. He was happy to oblige. At last satisfied with his exploration, he fixed his lips against hers and began a repeating pattern of thrusting his tongue into her at different intervals.

Under normal circumstances, Narvi's orgasms took a long time to build, and had an unfortunate tendency to be interrupted by any external stimulus, which inevitably required her partner – or, in some cases, her own hand – to start over from scratch. There were, however, some exceptions to this pattern of hers.

So when Cullen's head tilted unexpectedly, when his nose rubbed against her clitoris at the exact same moment his tongue flicked into just such a spot on the inside of her vaginal wall, and all this at the same time she happened to flex her leg and felt it rub against the scruff on his jaw, it sent her over the edge instantaneously. All the muscles in her back and hips seemed to contract at once, her mind went so utterly blank that her vision blacked out. Maybe she made a sound, but she wasn't sure because sounds all seemed to be far away. All she knew was that when her ability to see and hear and think came back to her, Cullen was leaning over her, his head level with hers, his mouth glistening with her fluids.

The aftershocks were making her arms feel weak, but at the sight of him that didn't seem to matter. She sat up and kissed him as hard as she had ever kissed anyone. She tasted herself on his lips, smiled and mewled when his tongue in her mouth mirrored what he had been doing down below. His arms snaked around her waist and ribs. Hers went around his neck and shoulders. They collapsed together into the mattress with their lips still locked and their legs a tangled mess.

They were both panting and gasping when they finally managed to pull their faces apart.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Cullen Rutherford. Who ever would have guessed that your mouth was the most dangerous part of you?”

He groaned. “Don't say that. You make me sound like an Orlesian.”

“Hon hon hon,” Narvi mock-laughed in as thick an Orlesian accent as she could manage. “Oh, Monsieur Cullen, why does not ze Inquisition 'ave any fancy cheese?”

Her accent was absolutely horrendous, and perhaps it was that very fact that had Cullen laughing as hard as he was.

“Thank the Maker you're not really Orlesian, because that was _awful_ ,” he teased when the laughter died away.

“I like Ferelden better anyway,” Narvi admitted. “The dogs are nicer and the cheese is actually edible. And the men are more attractive,” she added with a wink.

“Is it because we don't shave as often?”

Narvi giggled. “Exactly so.”

“Remind me to keep you away from dwarves,” Cullen sighed.

“There's no danger there, my love. Maybe before, a dwarf might've had a chance, but now I only have eyes for you.”

He smiled softly at her. Even if he never in his life understood why she had chosen him, he would always be grateful that she did. He leaned his head in and touched his forehead to hers. In near unison they both sighed, content and happy in each other's arms.

 


End file.
